I Have a Rendezvous with Death by Alan Seeger (1888 - 1916)

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous. -

The Two Boys In Front Of Angkor Wat

Yet, fate has dealt a hand far less favorable for this Khmer boy.

The boy and the baby

They try to turn a blind eye towards them, but everywhere they look, they are greeted by the same scene, just different children. And children they were. Some, like the little infant pictured above, barely a few months old.

I overhear one tourist, a mother, telling her son this; that we shouldn't encourage them by giving them handouts, that there are many cases where children are used by syndicates and passed around to beg in places which are popular with tourist.

A sense of anger overwhelmed me as I shot a glance at this family who was walking beside me. I guess it is easy to judge and pass such judgement when you are carrying a branded handbag and talking to your son with Nike on his feet. 

Even if it were true that such syndicates exist, and I believe they do, does anyone think that the children in such situation had a choice? Did the older, I presume, sibling choose sitting on muddy stone pathways feeding the baby with a banana, instead of idling his time away, playing in the watery moats surrounding Angkor Wat? Is the baby even aware of where he is?

I did not take another step further from these two boys towards the temple ruins, but turned back and searched for a stall that sells some rice. I bought a packet of steam rice with soup and a bottle of cold water. Together with what I hope would not be his only meal for the day, I dropped a few thousand Riel into the straw hat in front of the boy with the infant.

I left them with a heavy heart. One thing that really tore at me was the age of the infant. She was probably born around the same time as my precious baby niece. Yet, fate has dealt a hand far less favorable for this Khmer boy. I cannot possibly imagine my niece being subjected to sitting in the punishing sun, exposed to the rain, weary and crying out for just the comfort of having a full stomach and a little bit of shade.

A tourist pays 20 US dollars for a day at Angkor Wat, and a quick internet check shows that tourist arrivals exceeded 3 million in 2012, which means that approximately 60 million US dollars is collected annually. One wonders, if any of the gates proceeds goes towards the communities that surrounds the UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

Any foreign tourist that travels to Cambodia would, without a doubt, make Angkor Wat (and its surrounding temple ruins, such as Angkor Thom) the number one priority in terms of a place of interest to visit.

If the government was concerned about the reputation of Siem Reap, which as beautiful as it is, seems to have poverty and disadvantaged families pockmarked around the city, it appears, at least on the surface, as if they are not doing anything to fix it.

Within the walls of Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat is certainly beautiful. Against the bright blue skies, I climbed the steep stone stair cases of the temple, sat in quiet contemplation on top of intricately carved stones, marvel at the carvings on the nagas that have withstand the corrosion of time and nature, and felt the wind on my face as it passed through the pavilions and galleries, the same wind that have soothe the kings and monks of many centuries ago. Yet, the image that left the deepest imprint, the experience that was most indelible, was my encounter with the two boys in front of Angkor Wat.